


Late

by 127s



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Accidental Death, Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, Swearing, Violence, With A Twist, actually its probably predictable, i am so bad at tagging, kinda horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:14:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26309170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/127s/pseuds/127s
Summary: It was an accident.Sure, nobody liked Lee Donghyuck that much. But they didn't want to kill him.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 22
Kudos: 108





	Late

Mark's words are an incoherent mess; curses and stutters and incomplete sentences.

The phone is shaking— no, it's his hand that's shaking, making the words and map on the screen a blurred mix of greys and whites and greens.

"What direction?"

"What?" The word feels like it comes from someone else.

"What fucking direction do I go, Mark?" Hearing his name felt rather grounding, even with the harsh tone. Mark's hand grips at the door beside him, while he urges the other to sturdy itself enough to process what's on his phone screen. 

"Left— Left." He clears his throat. He supposes he should have expected the sharp halt of the car after that, but it makes him tense regardless, and his knuckles whiten as his grip on the door hardens.

The next time Johnny asks, Mark must have been too slow to answer, because the phone is roughly seized from his hand, and the older is muttering the words to himself, gaze regularly shifting from the brightness of the screen to the road ahead.

For a moment, Mark shuts his eyes, with a childish forethought that it would keep him safe, distanced from the situation he'd somehow gotten himself into. He realises Doyoung hasn't said anything in a while— Jungwoo hasn't either. Nobody has, except for Johnny's occasional reading of directions.

Unsurprisingly, the feeble attempt of closing his eyes doesn't help, Mark can hear the breathlessness of the men around him, he can feel the roughness beneath them indicating they're not on a road anymore. It means they're close. They're driving on grass, and the unsteadiness of it unnerves him. He knows the second car isn't far behind. Not on their tail, that would be suspicious, they'd discussed, but close enough to keep sight of them. 

There's a noise, someone shifting in the backseat, mumbling, and then the car comes to a stop. Mark opens his eyes to the dull looking area he'd expected, the smallest of clearings in a series of trees and endless fallen leaves. It's sunset, between light and dark— another thing they'd discussed. They'd have to be quick with how fast the sun set this time of year.

No one wants to bury a body in the dark and bitter air of late autumn.

Everybody is out of the car before him, and as if a switch was flicked, there's bickering in an instant, Doyoung and Johnny. Mark follows, with slow, unsure movements and shallow breaths. It's not long until the headlights of the second car are approaching behind them, and their group is complete, Jaehyun and Yuta with a shovel each, Taeil and Jungwoo following behind.

It's only a minute before they've found a spot, and they're digging— Deep. Johnny, Jaehyun, Taeyong and Yuta take turns alternating between the two shovels. Doyoung stands nearby, occasionally pacing back and forth with arms folded firmly across his chest. Mark doesn't know what Jungwoo and Taeil are doing.

All he can do himself is watch. Watch the pile of dirt and old leaves grow taller, and the hole deeper, nobody saying anything.

When they're done, breathless and sweaty, there's a wordless meeting in a somewhat circle around the trunk of Johnny's car. There's a heavy stillness in the air, nobody wants to move, nobody wants to say a word. It's Johnny himself to take the step forward and lift open the trunk. 

A wave of uneasiness overwhelms Mark at the sight in wait for them.

It was an accident.

Sure, nobody liked Lee Donghyuck that much. But they didn't want to kill him.

They didn't mean to take it that far, Doyoung didn't mean to push him that hard.

Once more, Mark has to take a moment to squeeze his eyes shut. To see nothing, rather than the lifelessness before him.

He steps back after that, or rather— beside him, Yuta is pulling at his arm, moving him back, out of the way of the small group making the effort to lift the body from the trunk. Johnny slams it to a close with a force that makes Mark flinch.

He doesn't want to watch, but he feels like he has to, has to know. 

He hates how careless they are with him, like he's nothing but trash they want to dispose of.

They're digging again, from the pile of dirt and leaves to the side, tossing it into the hole, letting it fall into the creases of Donghyuck's clothing. It seems painstakingly slow and exhausting. Mark can't take his eyes away from the male, who was once full of brightness and life.

Then Donghyuck smiles.

Mark feels like he could pass out. "He moved."

"What?" It's Taeil's voice, he's nearby, but in a direction Mark can't place.

He's sure of it, he's sure he saw it. The curl of his lips, the hint of a crinkle at his eyes, even the slightest tilt of his head.

"Mark?"

"I—I saw it. He fucking moved, he smiled, he—"

There's a sigh from Yuta. "You're just seeing things, he didn't—"

"He did!" Mark's voice wavers.

By now, the group of seven others had all taken notice, and Johnny and Jaehyun had stopped filling the hole. Doyoung speaks up.

"Mark," He exhales. "We can't do this, we don't have time! He had no pulse, okay? He wasn't breathing, he's not—"

He moves again. This time, his hand, to take a long, solid grip at the soft dirt beneath him. 

Mark swears he can remember hearing something —in a documentary, he thinks— about muscles twitching after death, and _maybe _, just maybe, he could have eventually brushed off the smile he'd seen as just that.__

____

____

But not this.

It feels like everyone is talking at once; bickering, yelling, moving. It makes Mark sure they've all seen it, and it makes him sure of something more; Donghyuck isn't dead.

He can't make out a word anyone is saying.

He never knew what everyone had against Donghyuck. Maybe it was just because he was new. People don't like change, not at this stage of their lives. They've grown up together, and then there was Donghyuck, who transferred in the middle of their senior year, wanting nothing but to be a part of the long lived friendship group.

Mark never saw it, the dislike for him. He might have even liked the younger a little, the way he always seemed so lively and bright. But who was he to disagree with the seven people he knew better than anyone?

And that's where it got him— trying to cover up an accidental death. A death, if he can call it that. They were done for. He was alive, he'd know what they'd done, what they'd tried to do.

All at once, there was a sickening crack. Metal and something firm and solid colliding, then immediate silence. Seconds later, there was heavy breathing, and someone was crying.

A fresh stream of blood quickly welcomed itself down Donghyuck's face, mixing with specks of dirt and pale dead leaves. The doing of Jaehyun's shovel. He stood unmoving, the shovel still positioned above his shoulder.

The air feels heavy.

"Go," Johnny mutters, and nobody moves. "Go! Fill it!" 

Doyoung takes the shovel from Jaehyun, in an almost tug-of-war fashion, and practically trips over himself hurrying to resume filling the hole. 

Mark realises Jaehyun is the one crying.

Johnny and Doyoung rush to lift and empty as much dirt into the hole as they can, though it's nowhere near fast enough. Within a moment, Taeyong and Jungwoo team up to kick dirt into the hole. 

After some more incoherent yelling, everyone but Johnny and Doyoung, and Jaehyun, who's still motionless, is on their knees, shoving handfuls of dirt into the whole. Leaves, fallen branches, occasional pieces of plastic and litter, anything to fill it.

There's dirt everywhere, all over Mark, stuck to the knees of his jeans and the hem of his shirt, beneath his nails and between his fingers. He doesn't know how he got here, maybe someone pushed him, but he's helping, shoving everything in distance into the hole.

And then it's full.

There's no sign of him.

Mark's fingers dig into the side of his desk. There's still dirt beneath his nails. He showered twice, then three times. Lost count of how many times he washed his hands, but it's still there.

His head hurts and his eyes sting. Everything feels blurred and beyond his comprehension.

He doesn't know how everyone can pretend nothing happened, or at least try— anyone who looked close enough could see that something had went down, something that rid them all of any possibility to sleep the night before.

Jungwoo is at the desk beside him, and ahead of them is Donghyuck's, empty.

Jaehyun isn't in their class, but Mark knows his desk is empty too. He hadn't been heard from since the night before.

In his other hand, Mark squeezes the pen he holds between his fingers. His writing is practically a scribble, but it's the best he can manage in-between the replaying thoughts of the night earlier. Rolled up sleeves, shirts stained with dirt, bloodied leaves.

Coincidentally, he hears the sound of a pen rolling to the floor from the desk beside him, and looks to Jungwoo. 

Jungwoo, who looks on the verge of collapsing. As if he'd seen a ghost.

"Sorry I'm late," Mark hears from the front of the room, an awfully familiar voice. "I woke up with an awful headache."

His heart drops.

**Author's Note:**

> hello! i hope this was decent, it's my first fic post very-long writer's block and one of my first attempts at the somewhat (?) horror genre!
> 
> should i add a second chapter or leave it at this? i don't knowwww


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